


Five Times It Wasn't His Kink

by pipisafoat



Category: In Plain Sight
Genre: Animal Play, Authority Figures, Blades, Bondage (Other), Community: kink_bingo, F/M, drugs/aphrodisiacs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-29
Updated: 2011-07-29
Packaged: 2017-10-21 22:26:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pipisafoat/pseuds/pipisafoat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(plus the obligatory time it was)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Times It Wasn't His Kink

**Author's Note:**

> Contains dubious and nonconsensual kink

_one_

It was just football.

Sports being what they were (adrenalin-fueled brain cell murder), Marshall had never really found the appeal, but his partner had probably grown up captain of the football team. At least, playing the roughest games possible after school. He'd seen pictures of her when she was a teenager, always with the scowl and the bruises and the cuts. Jinx had told him all about her unhealthy sports fixation.

It really shouldn't have surprised him, considering her previous job in the Marshals Service. But still, somehow, it had caught him off guard, and it had made it official - she was the man in their partnership. At least he was expecting it when she showed up at his house with a case of cheap beer, complaining that her mother kept changing the channel, and could she just borrow his tv for a while, she'd be so quiet he wouldn't know she was there?

Well, he knew she was there. Volume way up, yelling at the tv, probably drunk before she had even let herself in the door. He gave up on his book at halftime and let her entice him towards the tv with her beer (and his own snacks, thank you very much), and if he spent more time watching her reactions than the actual game, it wasn't any business but his own. At least, not until she made it hers, too. By straddling him.

"What--!"

She grinned down at him. "Kiss me, doofus."

Marshall thought about it. "You're drunk."

"All the better to sleep with you."

He sighed and pushed her firmly back to the cushion beside him. "Thanks, but no thanks. I know how you like to have your excuses ready-made and not to have to think about it while you do it, but I prefer unaltered minds in my mind."

She protested, but at the end of the night, she was drooling on the couch, and he was alone in his room, door locked, enjoying his (sober) hand.

 

 _two_

"Don't enjoy it too much."

He steps closer. "No. No, I ... no."

There are shadows in her eyes, but he watches her paste a grin on anyway. "Come on, Marshall, I've seen what's in your closet. You can't tell me this isn't exactly what you want."

"It's not." He suddenly realizes his gun is still in his hand and holsters it, pulling a knife out of his pocket as he steps closer still. "I'm going to cut these, okay?"

"Do my feet first," she says, quietly desperate, plastic grin melting. "I can't ... I'm starting to lose feeling in them."

He slides to his knees in front of her, skims his hands down from her knees to settle the slight tremors. "Sorry it took so long. You got kidnapped by actual professionals, this time. Covered their tracks well."

"It's fine." She shuffles her feet restlessly as he slices through the rope. "Just get me out of here. I hate being tied up."

"Working on it." He pulls the last of it away and rubs her ankles for a moment before reaching up to slice through the ropes wrapped around her thighs. "You're bleeding."

"Nothing compared to my wrists."

Marshall stands and slides around to get behind her as much as he can. This rope wraps around her wrists several times, her waist once, and then loops through a metal ring in the wall. He runs a finger around the edges of her bindings where he can't see and swallows hard when it comes back wet with blood. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's fine. It'll heal." She takes a deep breath, lifts one leg at a time as though to stretch it. "Too bad they didn't have your stuff."

He flushes a little and slides the knife in behind her back. "I told you, I wouldn't ... I don't ... Yes, it would have hurt you a lot less."

"I don't get the appeal of being tied up," she says after a moment, almost conversationally. "And quit cutting my wrists."

"Sorry. It's tight back here." He snaps the blade back into its handle and drops it on the floor. His fingers trace the rope again, looking for the ends. "It's about trust. I mean, the kind of tying up that ... that both parties can enjoy. Not this."

Mary snorts. "Yeah, not a whole lot of trust in this particular scenario." She twists her wrists against the rope again, shifts her weight from one leg to the other.

"Hold still; you're just making it worse for yourself."

"Well, hurry up. Some of us really don't like being tied up." She cranes her neck, tries to look at him, but his gaze is intent on her hands. "You seriously do?"

He shrugs, all too aware that his ears are probably turning pink. "Yeah, well, in the right situation. With the right person." He meets her eyes, adds almost defiantly, "Yeah, I do."

She shakes her head. "I will never understand you. I can't stand not being able to move, to fight back or react or just change position a little bit. How can you...." She trails off, shaking her head again.

"Oh, here--" Marshall pulls something and finally, finally the rope loosens enough for her to squirm her hands out of it. "Jesus, Mary, your _wrists_!"

"No big deal."

"Let me see."

She doesn't flinch as he pulls a fiber out of a wound. She doesn't flinch when he turns and roughly cuts the rope off the wall. She definitely, definitely doesn't say anything when he stands there for a minute, looking at the metal ring.

Except she does. "Jealous?" Her tone tries for teasing, but she can tell by his sharp look that it didn't cover her sincere curiosity.

"Of this?" He gestures with the bloody rope. "Not at all. Just thinking what a convenient ring this is."

"Well, if you're looking to remodel your house, black might be a better look than silver."

"Thanks for the advice." He bumps her shoulder with his and pushes her gently toward the door. "Come on, Stan's already grumpy that I made him wait outside for the paramedics."

 

 _three_

Stan held a fist to his mouth to keep silent. Marshall hid his face in his hands, shoulders shaking. Mary didn't even try.

"You mean you actually believe that old joke?"

Allison Pearson shook her head and sighed. "I know this is the joke that goes around down here for all the new kids, but it's serious this time. You know that it actually exists in places like DC--"

A small noise escaped from behind Stan's hand.

"DC is nothing like Albuquerque." Marshall slowly removed his hands and spread them concilatorily. "Believing it for there is ... intensely difficult. Here? Nothing if not impossible."

"I'm sorry, gentlemen, but it's real."

"Gullible."

Marshall glared at Mary.

"I'm just saying, don't believe her. The joke's going to be on you before you know it."

Allison slammed a hand onto the table. "Dammit! This is serious! There are extremely twisted people out there who think it's fun to subvert our authority! To kidnap law officers and--"

"Fuck or die cults." Stan bit the edge of his fist to hold the laugh in.

"Oh, come on, Stan! It's the only way some people will ever get some action." Mary raised an eyebrow at Marshall.

He arched one in return. "And those people might appreciate it, but personally, I prefer my partners to have a choice in the matter."

Mary grinned and stage-whispered to Stan, "He's just sad that you wouldn't be the one with him if they struck."

 

 _four_

Mary dropped into the chair beside her partner's desk. "So Richard called me an hour ago, all concerned that someone had broken into his house and how he might be compromised."

"I assume from your grin--"

"Nothing of the sort," she assured him. "You remember when we met his new girlfriend last month?"

He grinned. "The one you said was a lesbian?"

She waved a hand dismissively. "Not a lesbian, but I totally called that there was something weird about her. Anyway, Richard was worried about this break-in. Not because anything was missing, but because there were things on his bed that weren't his. When I asked him what sort of things, he turned red and wouldn't answer. So I went to go investigate for myself."

"Naturally."

"Guess what I found."

Marshall sighed. "Some sort of sexual aid, going by your grin."

"What kind of 'sexual aid'?" She exaggerated her air quotes and pushed the chair back some, propping her feet on the corner of his desk. "Fifty says you can't guess."

"So nothing you'd consider normal." He frowned for a moment. "And nothing that I'd obviously think of. That you know I would think of." He scratched idly at his neck, then snapped his fingers. "A chastity belt."

"People use those for fun?" She sounded revolted more than anything.

"Some people. Not me. A collar? Double-headed dildo?"

Mary stared at him. "How can you - _you!_ \- talk about these things without blushing at least as much as Richard?"

"My pride is on the table. I'm fighting it back." He said it dryly, as a joke, but they both knew he was serious.

"You know they make gun-shaped dildos?"

Marshall laughed. "Is that--"

"Not what he had, no. Give up?"

"Sure."

She dropped her feet onto the floor and leaned in conspiratorially. "A butt plug ... with a dog tail on it."

"I had a girlfriend in college who wore cat ears," Marshall returned mildly.

"Oh, god, I don't want to know." Mary got to her feet but hesitated before walking away. "Okay, I do."

He laughed. "I made her take them off when we ... were intimate."

She sighed in relief. "At least _someone_ 's still normal. Richard's girlfriend came home in the middle of him freaking out. This was her idea of easing him into the kink."

Marshall shook his head. "I hope they have fun, and I hope I never have to hear about it." He looked at Mary sharply. "Ever again."

 

 _five_

He came to slowly, but he still registered the man looming over him almost instantly.

"Hey there, Sunshine!" The kidnapper grinned down at him. "Now, I just wanted to warn you before you even tried, in case you don't have the feline' back yet - I've got a knife on you." It glinted in front of his eyes and then pressed flat against his throat. "Don't even bother trying' to fight back. You took quite a hit off my tranquilizer gun. Doubt you'll be movin' for quite some time."

"Mnnh," Marshall said.

The kidnapper laughed. "You constant yellin' was a little rough. Don't worry; it'll come back eventually. In the meantime, I owe your partner a little token. She's already called twice."

Marshall felt the blade start to slide down his chest, and he tried to yell. "Ddnn!"

"Oh, come now, this won't hurt, Sunshine." The man grinned. "You ought to still be pretty drugged up. Just a little piece of skin. Shall we make it heart shaped? We all know how much you love her."

"And it goes both ways, which is why you really shouldn't fuck with him." Marshall tried to turn enough to see Mary, but his muscles wouldn't respond. "Now you drop the knife well away from my partner, or I'll drop a bullet in your skull."

The kidnapper dropped the knife and held his hands up. "You're makin' a big mistake, Darlin'! Your man's into this sort of thing. I was just helpin' out, seein' as I am too. We was just playin'!"

Mary laughed humorlessly. "Nah. Ropes, that's his thing. I'm his thing. You and your knife and your tranquilizers? _So_ not his thing."

 

 _and one time they all were:_

"I don't know anything more complex than a square knot," Mary warns, wrapping the rope around his arms.

"Do you have any idea how little I care about that right now." Marshall flexes against the rope, groaning softly when it holds. "Just--"

"Shhh."

He hesitates, then keeps talking. "When I was in college, when I was just taking classes before I did any of the internships, I used to smoke some marijuana before my girlfriend tied me up. I couldn't get down on my own with her, without that little boost beforehand, but it still felt so good."

"The same girlfriend who wore cat ears?"

Marshall smiles a little vaguely. "Cat ears and her cop uniform, when she started at the station. She liked to talk, while she worked. Tell me how I was in trouble for the pot, she was going to take me downtown. It wasn't about that for me like it was for her, but I'm ... I'm just used to some background noise."

She traces his forearm between twists of rope. "You want me to talk?"

He doesn't answer, shivering at her light touch.

"Marshall. Communication."

"No."

"Okay." She brings the rope over his shoulders and under his bent knees, pulling them closer to his chest. She pauses, strokes his foot while she considers where the rope goes next.

"I want you to tie me up and then turn on the TV and watch whatever's on, I don't care, just don't stop touching me like this," he blurts all at once, then blushes. "And then cut the rope off me."

Mary rubs his shin. "And then you're going down on me, because I'm not interrupting this for sex, but you are ridiculously hot when you ask for what you want."


End file.
